Harold dropped to the ground and backed away, waving. “Yeah, it’ll be perfect up there. You two kids have fun.”
From his seat behind Betty, Wilson saluted Harold and Bill and then flipped the switch to start the plane’s engine. The roar of the propeller filled the air. Betty arranged her goggles over her eyes before blowing a kiss to Bill as the little plane sped down the runway and then lurched upward. There was a blur of parched grass and the field dropped away. Betty’s stomach flipped as the small plane rose. The miracle of flying never failed to leave her breathless. She allowed her gaze to leave Bill and she watched the houses and buildings of Harvey and Riverdale shrink to something resembling a child’s doll village. From above, the missing sections of roofs on abandoned factory buildings gaped; dusty yards littered with abandoned tires, broken appliances, and other garbage became visible. Acme Steel’s smokestacks belched out wisps of black smoke. Automobiles crept along the ribbons of roads like ants. Ahead, Lake Michigan glittered across the horizon, tiny white sailboats dotting its surface like pieces of confetti. The air cooled and the tiny blond hairs on Betty’s forearms rose in goose pimples in the sudden coolness of the altitude. She was on top of the world and let out a loud cheer.
Wilson hooted in response and put the plane into a dive to show off his latest maneuvers. Betty grabbed on to the edges of her seat as the plane began a steep decline. For several minutes he wowed her with a series of steep ascents and descents, and she laughed and laughed, loving the exhilaration that filled her with each new trick.
They had just reached the top of an ascent when a jolt shuddered through the plane. The propeller in front of Betty stuttered and then appeared motionless. An eerie silence surrounded them.
Betty sat straighter in surprise at this latest stunt.
Behind her, Wilson mumbled to himself. Everything felt suspended. Aware that she had stopped breathing, Betty exhaled and marveled at the stillness. Blue sky surrounded them, not a single cloud in sight. A perfect day to be in the air.
And then the plane tilted downward.
Sharply.
Before she could register what was happening, they were plunging toward the earth. Where was Bill? Could he see what was happening? The tops of trees, mere pinpricks moments ago, now swelled like opening umbrellas as they hurtled toward them. A riot of sounds filled Betty’s ears, but it wasn’t from the propeller—it was the roar of rushing air, Wilson shouting, and her own screaming.
THE CHICAGO EVENING STANDARD
July 1, 1932
“Girl Olympian Mistaken for Dead”
Harvey—When Mr. Fisher, the undertaker at Oak Forest Funeral Home, received the lifeless body of a young girl taken from the wreckage of a plane, he paused before preparing her for the Great Beyond. Even in her grievous state, she looked familiar. It was at that moment that he noticed her chest rising and falling and called for emergency services, thereby narrowly averting a tragic mistake!
So who was this hapless victim?
None other than Miss Betty Robinson, whose infectious smile and fleet feet captured the nation’s heart after she won a gold medal in the 1928 Olympics in Amsterdam.
On Sunday, June 28, Miss Robinson, 20, had joined her cousin Wilson Palmer, 18, in his plane for a short ride to escape the heat. After several minutes in the air, the engine stalled at a height of 400 feet before plummeting into a nearby marshy field. A witness found Palmer alive and took him to Ingalls Memorial Hospital, where he is in serious but stable condition with a fractured jaw and broken legs.
Miss Robinson, currently a coed at Northwestern University, remains in a coma at Oak Forest Infirmary. Doctors are not yet commenting on the extent of her injuries, but her accident has shaken her former Olympic teammates and coaches. Major Gen. Douglas MacArthur, head of the 1928 Olympic team, expressed his shock and sorrow, saying, “This tragedy is a great loss for our nation.” Since winning her gold medal in Amsterdam, Miss Robinson had been training for the Olympics taking place in Los Angeles later this month and was favored to win gold again in the 100-meter sprint.
LOS ANGELES MORNING SUN
July 10, 1932
“Stella Walsh for Sale!”
Cleveland—With the Olympic trials less than a week away, Stanislawa Walasiewicz (better known by her Americanized name, Stella Walsh), speediest of the nation’s sprinters, declined American naturalization papers and announced she plans to run for her native country of Poland. Her statement comes as a stunning blow to America’s chances for gold in the upcoming Olympics.
Her trainer and coach begged her to decline the invitation to join the Polish Olympic team, but Walsh remained firm, citing financial concerns. She explained that after being given a furlough of indeterminate duration by her employer, New York Central Railroad, economic hardship is motivating her decision to race for Poland, a country that has offered to pay training and travel expenses for its Olympic athletes, along with offering an academic scholarship to attend university.
Despite criticism that she is being disloyal to the country that raised her, Miss Walsh insisted she had no choice but to accept Poland’s offer. Mr. Walsh, a father of five and a part-time steel-mill worker, tearfully claimed he had no additional means to support his daughter. Cleveland’s mayor, Mr. Raymond T. Miller, offered her a position in the city’s recreation department, but the American Athletic Union stated that taking any recreation-related job would compromise her amateur athlete status and make her ineligible to compete as a member of the United States Olympic team.
Her announcement has raised eyebrows and confirmed the feminine prerogative to change her mind, not to mention the untrustworthy nature of non-American people. “This is a brazen case of professionalism winning over patriotism,” lamented famed basketball coach Mr. R. Baker. Bob Leahy of Cleveland’s city council also expressed his disgust with her decision, saying, “Walsh clearly has no loyalty to her adopted country, so this unemployed Slavic immigrant should go back to where she came from. Good riddance.”
In the last three years, the young woman has set ten records in a variety of different distances and is widely considered a top contender for being the fastest woman in the world.
BOSTON UNION LEADER
July 15, 1932
“Boston-Area Girls Depart for Olympic Trials”
Malden—Three of the state’s top sprinters boarded the train this morning for Chicago, where they hope to secure spots on the Olympic team heading to Los Angeles later this month. Miss Louise Stokes of the Onteora Track Club, Miss Mary Carew of the Medford Athletic Club, and Miss Olive Hasenfus of the Boston Swimming Association have been invited to compete in the women’s 100-meter dash, one of six Olympic events open to the fairer sex. For the last two years, these three women have been thrilling New Englanders with their nail-biting races, during both the indoor and outdoor track seasons. Miss Stokes, the Negro phenom, achieved a national broad jump record in 1931, and Miss Carew holds a national title for the fastest 40-yard-dash time. Miss Hasenfus traveled to the 1928 Olympics in Amsterdam as a reserve member of the American women’s relay team and has held several national titles in various distances since she was fifteen years old, but she’s endured a challenging year as she recovers from a surgery last winter.
Of the fifty hopefuls who will be competing in the 100-meter race, only the top six women sprinters will be selected to travel to Los Angeles as official members of the women’s team under the expertise of Manager Fred Steers and Coach George Vreeland. In the last two weeks, the women’s sprinting field has broken wide open for American racers with Stella Walsh’s announcement that she’ll be racing for Poland and former Olympic gold medalist Betty Robinson’s horrific plane crash. Perhaps one of our Boston girls will find herself leading the charge to gold.